Miles to Go Before I Sleep
by Cailin na hEireann
Summary: Sherlock continues to stare wordlessly at John. His eyes, only minutes ago foggy with sleep and disorientation, are fierce. Intent. Completely awake, and not one bit happy. 'John. Give me the camera. Now.' John takes the camera with him as he turns and runs, laughing.


_**I really don't know where the hell this came from. Ah, well. Hope someone enjoys it anyway. :D**_

**The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**

**15****th**** May**

**Hi, everyone! A special video today, to show you lot what a LOVELY, CHEERFUL morning person my flatmate is (if you're reading this and you can't tell, Sherlock, that's sarcasm).**

[There is a lot of fumbling noises as John fiddles with the settings of the camera. We get sporadic glimpses of the inside of 221B's living room: a skull on the mantelpiece, notes scattered over the floor, a Liebig Condenser partially shoved under the sofa. John is muttering quietly to himself, uncertain if the camera has been turned on yet.]

John: So that goes… Okay…. there.

[He turns the camera towards himself, not quite getting the angle right and leaving a chunk of his face out of the frame. He's grinning, hair mussed from sleep, but he doesn't look the slightest bit tired. When he speaks, it's in a muffled voice, quiet. He's trying to find the balance between being heard clearly by the viewers and not being heard _at all _by someone else.]

John: Right. Well, some of you have been asking about Sherlock's sleeping habits. As I'm sure you can already guess, he rarely sleeps while he's on a case. Which is most of the time, as you know.

[He begins to pick his way across the severely untidy floor; he has to look downwards to watch where he's going and inadvertently turns the camera down too. We get flashes of an array of unknown objects and stains, and one grey-green one in particular that John seems the most careful to avoid.]

John: So, we finished a case yesterday. As soon as we left Scotland Yard Sherlock fell asleep in the taxi - leaving _me _to pay the fare, by the way - and spent the journey in a comatose state. Seriously, he was drooling all over the window, and I didn't really know whether that was a normal thing for him to do while he's asleep, or not, so I just left him to it.

[He turns down a short corridor and heads towards the door at the end. There is a trail of tripods and Bunsen burners and evaporating dishes leading here, like an eccentric version of the Yellow Brick Road. John doesn't seen to find anything odd about it.]

John: And…. [He stops talking for a second, concentrating on stepping over something without disturbing it.]

John: Okay, sorry. Well anyway, as soon as we got home, Sherlock went to bed and hasn't resurfaced for about…. 18 hours at this stage, I think. I suppose he needed it, because he hadn't slept since Tuesday, but he also really needs to eat something, so…. Here we go.

[He gently pushes open the door, hesitating before switching on the light. The room that we see is sparsely decorated, and quite impersonal, as bedrooms go. However, there is a scattering of yet _more _sheets covering the floor: sheet music, notes, diagrams. John steps on one of these and makes a wincing noise.]

John: Okay. Shit, I hope that wasn't important. Jesus Christ, he had better be wearing pyjamas. (He laughs suddenly under his breath) Sorry, ladies and gents. Disregard that last comment. I don't want you lot spreading more unsavoury rumours about what goes on here in Baker Street. Sherlock just forgets to wear clothes sometimes, and - right, I'm going to stop talking now.

[John finally reaches the bed. At a fleeting glance, one would assume that it's empty, save for the bundled up layers of duvet piled on top. However, the trepidation with which John reaches a hand out and pokes the lump tells a different story.]

John: Sherlock? Sherlock, it's time to get up. You need to eat something. C'mon, you've had enough sleep.

[There is no reaction. John sighs quietly and begins to gently tug back the duvet from the top of the bed. When three slim fingers slowly emerge (reminiscent of E.T.) and curl around the duvet, preventing it from being pulled down more, John gives up and steps back a little. When he speaks again, it is slightly more forceful.]

John: Sherlock. Get the hell up right now. You've slept for nearly a day.

[There is a pause for a moment]

John: Sherlock?

[There's a muffled groan from under the covers and Sherlock finally sits up a little, still mostly curled beneath the blankets. His dark hair completely hides his eyes; he looks hilariously like a mop.]

John: (Laughing) GET. UP!

[It takes him a moment, but slowly Sherlock begins to respond to John's voice. His face, still mostly hidden behind a flop of dark hair, turns sleepily in John's general direction. Unfortunately he makes no further progress.]

John: Oh, for…

[He lowers his voice, softens it, and it's easy to hear the genuine fondness in his voice when he next speaks.]

John: Sherlock? Time to get up. Come on, it's not that hard!

[He reaches out again and pokes Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock doesn't seem to react in any way for several seconds. Eventually, a bleary hand lifts up and pushes some of the hair clumsily out of his eyes. This is no help at all, really, because they're still closed.]

John: Sherlock! (Laughs again). Sherlock, get your eyes open, okay? That's the first step. Come on, you can do it. (As an aside to the camera) He must not be fully awake yet. He would never let me get away with being so patronising if he could understand what I was saying. He really _hates _it when I talk to him like this.

[Sherlock remains impervious to John's encouragements for about a minute, and then suddenly lurches into a more upright sitting position. He lifts his arms and stretches them. We can see his eyelids beginning to open in response to the light.]

John: There he is! (In an unnecessarily cheerful tone) Good morning!

[Sherlock finishes stretching and lowers his arms again slowly. He spends several seconds blinking furiously, mouth still partially open from sleep, and finally seems to realise John is there. He stares at him in apparent confusion for a moment, as if he doesn't know who he is, and then yawns widely. He doesn't seem to care that he is being filmed, or maybe he just isn't aware of it. He is still, after all, not fully present in the waking world yet.]

John: (Trying hard not to laugh) Sherlock? Are you with us?

[Silence]

[Sherlock lurches into motion again and sits up on his knees slowly, trying not to get his feet tangled in the sheets. He begins to crawl towards the end of the bed on all fours, eyes still partly closed and clearly not yet fully-functioning. He pauses at random intervals, as if the crawling is in some way tiring him out and he needs to rest for a moment. Finally, he reaches out a hand blindly and fumbles for the footboard.]

John: (Checking his watch) This must be a record.

[Just as the words finish leaving John's mouth, Sherlock gives up and slumps forward, curling up on his side and resting his cheek on the wooden footboard.]

John: (Amused, but with an edge of impatience to his voice) Oh, for God's sake! Sherlock, will you GET UP! It's eleven o'clock in the bloody morning, and you have to give your statement at Scotland Yard in an hour!

[There is, once again, no response. John sighs heavily, and shoves Sherlock's shoulder, hard. A faint voice can be heard from the distance].

John: (Under his breath) Thank fuck.(Louder) Mrs Hudson? I'm in here!

[The view swivels away from Sherlock and we see a small, grandmotherly woman standing in the doorway. She blinks at the unexpected camera pointing in her direction, but doesn't seem much phased by it.]

John: Good morning! Oh, this is for my blog. Viewers, this is our landlady, Mrs Hudson. Say hi to the viewers, Mrs Hudson!

[She smiles in a friendly, if uncertain, way, and raises a hand to wave it cheerfully at the camera.]

Mrs Hudson: Hi, viewers! (As an aside to John) Oh, if I'd known I was going to be filmed I'd have put on make-up!

John: (Laughing) You look fine without it, Mrs Hudson.

[She swats his arm fondly, and then takes in the scene]

Mrs Hudson: Oh, no. Not this again, is it? Sherlock….(clicks her tongue)

[She sits on the end of the bed without first checking for toxic spills (brave woman) and strokes Sherlock's hair gently.]

Mrs Hudson: Sherlock, you have to wake up now. The day's nearly over! Sherlock, love?

[He has moved his chin to rest in the crook of her elbow, but otherwise seems dead to the world. Again.]

John: (Laughing) Okay, I've got an idea.

[He hands the camera to Mrs Hudson and she pans it just in time to catch John jogging from the room. About fifteen seconds later, the doorbell rings. Just once.]

[Instantly Sherlock raises his head, eyes blinking blearily. In less than two seconds he is struggling into a seated position and trying to stand up. He bats Mrs Hudson's hand away carelessly, but she only chuckles in response.]

Mrs Hudson: You're awake now Sherlock?

[She turns the camera to catch John as he returns. He is grinning, and the grin only grows wider when he sees that his ploy has worked. He leans over to take the camera back from Mrs Hudson.]

John: (To the camera) And there you go, ladies and gentlemen. The sure-fire way to drag Sherlock Holmes out of his bed on days like these.

[Sherlock is staring sadly at John, looking betrayed. Instantly, John begins making guilty apologies.]

John: Oh, Jesus, Sherlock! (Laughing) Don't look at me like that! I'm sorry, I only did that to get you up. There's no client. Or none that I know of, anyway.

[Sherlock continues to stare wordlessly at John. His eyes, only minutes ago foggy with sleep and disorientation, are fierce. Intent. Completely awake, and not one bit happy. For the first time for many of John and Sherlock's fans, they are getting to see Sherlock Holmes' famous gaze up close. It is so deeply intense it is almost unsettling.]

Sherlock: John. Give me that camera. Now.

[John takes the camera with him as he turns and runs, laughing.]

**10 comments**

What the hell, John? I thought you had better taste than this.

**Sally Donovan - 15 May 13:26**

Haha thanks for cheering me up on a Sunday morning, Sherlock and John! Your antics never get old!

**Bill Murray - May 13: 56**

Aw! That's exactly what my cat's like in the morning!

**Jacob Somersby - 15 May 14:09**

OMG, he's so cute! *glomps* Jk, I wouldn't do that! Wouldn't want to make you angry with me. 3

**Harry Watson - 15 May 15:45**

What? What does _that _mean? Why are you suddenly using all this internet-speak, Harry? OMG JK 3 3 ? I really don't know what you mean anymore.

**John Watson - 15 May 16:07**

It means she wishes to forcefully hug me, but has decided in the interest of her own safety to forego that particular action, lest you become envious of her proximity to me and berate her in some way or another.

**Sherlock Holmes - 15 May 16:13**

Btw, I can't believe you did that to me. OMG how could you, Jawn? :-Z

**Sherlock Holmes - 15 May 16: 21**

Oh, and if you're reading this and you can't tell, John, that's INTERNET SPEAK. And I'm never explaining something like that to you again.

**Sherlock Holmes - 15 May 16:25**

What? Look, I'm sorry! God, you are such a drama queen.

**John Watson - 15 May 16: 42**

Sherlock?

**John Watson - 15 May 17:02**

_**Well, that's that. Feel free to review if you wish. You don't have to, of course. ;)**_

_**If anyone's interested, there's a cute video on Youtube called 'Teddy the English Bulldog Jumps For The Doorbell' that's kind of like this little fic of mine. **_

_**Except, you know, with a dog. But at least the dog's a BULLDOG (Gladstone!), so there is an actual link there. Sort of.**_

_**Okay. I will shut up now.**_

_**xxx**_


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